


Disquietude

by alanabloomlecter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanabloomlecter/pseuds/alanabloomlecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Ko No Mono between Freddies funeral and when the grave is disturbed. Alana is struggling to tell if anyone is being honest with her and is a little bit all over the place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disquietude

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel like Alana's reaction to everything was shown enough on screen, her entire belief system has been pulled through the wringer and it seems to me that she would internalise a lot of that uncertainty. So this is my take on how she was dealing with it. 
> 
> First fic in this fandom so be forgiving! Not beta'd.

She felt empty. 

It was the only word that fit the feeling. Oh, she was quite familiar with the symptoms of depression. she had diagnosed it countless times and yet in herself this wasn't the same. It was doubt, a deep seated doubt of everything and everyone.  
 In everything that had happened in the past few months, he had been her constant. Her port in the storm. And now even he seemed to be shrouded in fog.  
 Her head ached. What could she do. But its Hannibal she would tell herself. And then ‘but its Will’ herself would counter. She suddenly came to herself when she realised her phone was ringing. JACK CRAWFORD the display read. 

She sighed and rubbed her hand across her tired eyes. She picked up the phone and hit answer ‘Jack?’ she tried to sound informal and inquisitive despite how she felt. She felt everything anyone said made everything worse. Brought up more questions and sent her head spinning. 

‘Alana? Can you be ready in 10 minutes? I’ll swing by and pick you up’ 

She stole a look down at her watch, sighing at the time. She had been sat at her desk in her study since about 8pm.

‘Jack, its 2.30 in the morning, whats going on?’

‘How do you feel about graveyards?’ He replied with a small chuckle. ‘I really need your input. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important’ he conceded. She knew that of course. 

‘I’ll be ready.’ She replied shortly and hung up. With a heavy sigh she rose from her chair at her desk. It had grown dark in the hours she’d been sitting there. Her hand rose to rub the back of her neck as she moved slowly towards her bedroom, her bare feet padding on the cold hardwood floors.  
She moved through her bedroom in the dark with familiarity and confidence, reaching for the lightswitch at the door of her small ensuite bathroom. 

She regarded herself in the mirror with a small shake of her head, the stark light did her no favours. The emotional turmoil was taking its toll - she had dark heavy bags under her eyes which seemed dull grey rather than their normal piercing blue, and her face was ghastly pale. She hissed as she realised there was still puffiness around her eyes from crying earlier. She almost angrily pulled her makeup bag to her and fished out her concealer.

She gently applied the cream concealer under her eyes and frowned at the result. She looked awful. She felt awful. She picked up her mascara and gingerly applied a light layer on her lashes. She threw the mascara down on the counter in frustration and leaned with her hands on the edge of the bathroom counter, her head hung low and took a deep breath. Alana slowly raised her head and looked at herself properly. She looked haunted. 

She composed herself in front of the mirror and watched herself reach for the small orange prescription bottle of pills. she removed the white plastic cap and shuffled a couple of pills out. She exhaled shakily and raised her hand to her mouth. She swallowed the pills dry, regarding her reflection with an emotionless stare. 

She exited her bathroom with and gently pinched the bridge of her nose in her fingers. ‘Get it together Alana.’ she told herself in the dark, and she moved down the stairs towards her front door, she pulled her thick navy coat from the end of the bannister where it had hung since she had returned from Freddie Lounds’ funeral in the late afternoon. 

‘Fuck’ she hissed under her breath as the light of car headlights filtered through the window in her front door. She pulled her boots up from where they had also lain discarded, and sat perched on the stair as she pulled them on her feet and zipped them up.  
Her hand was on the door handle when she suddenly thought about the time and the temperature. She turned and grabbed a scarf from the hook next in the cupboard and headed out the door.

The drive over was quick. Far too quick. Jack looked over at her as he cut the ignition. ‘Um, look Alana, its quite a sight’ he said with a grimace.  
‘I’ll be fine’ she dismissed him curtly and climbed out the car, struggling a little in the snow with heeled boots. The cold was a welcome distraction to the sight that greeted her.


End file.
